


Like lovers do

by WritingforTheAvengers



Category: Avengers, Black Widow - Fandom, Natasha Romanoff - Fandom
Genre: F/F, hey violet song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 08:59:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14565549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingforTheAvengers/pseuds/WritingforTheAvengers
Summary: Love is just another four letter word, but that never stoped anybody.





	Like lovers do

>   _I see you watching me_  
>  _Eyes on your target_  
>  _Mix drinks and smoke rings_  
>  _it’s already started_  
>  _it won't be too long before me and you_  
>  _are doing what lovers do_

Your arms were straight and stiff. The grip on your gun was tight and your knuckles whitened at the pressure. Your breath didn’t even hitch. You had done this a hundred times before, and you knew that it would eventually come to this.

In front of you, the woman you had loved the most was in the same position as you. Her body, although in such a fierce pose, looked graceful. Her lean, though muscular arms didn’t even tremble. She was so sure of what she was doing, as if she was born to do it. In a way, she did. She was literally made for this, and she looked great. You were willing to lay down your gun for her.

“I can’t say this surprises me, (Y/N),” she slyly said. One of her eyebrows rose and the corner of her lips curved on a smirk. “I can’t say it pleases me to do it but… a job is a job.”

“Couldn’t have said that better, agent Romanoff,” you conceded. “That’s a pretty dress, I wonder how you’d look without it,” you grinned.

> _Clothes on the floor_  
>  _We're exploring our bodies_  
>  _Getting you off is my new favorite hobby_  
>  _Lipstick on your neck brands like a tattoo_  
>  _Cause that just how lovers do_

Natasha Romanoff was a KGB agent and you were CIA. Natural enemies, but then again life was one fun ride. You met at an undercover mission you two had for the same target, a mission that luckily took place at an auction in which a lot of alcohol and money was involved. You spotted a redhead sitting a few chars away from you; she looked uninterested, and in the middle of one of the last auctions, she stood up and left.

You stayed there because your target was still spending his ridiculous amounts of money, but you couldn’t help but to look over your shoulder to have one last glance of the woman. You knew she was special, you could tell in the way she moved. Her body language gave her away. You got bored too, and headed for a drink and, possibly, some small talk with the redhead that took over your thoughts.

You asked for a drink which was served right in front of you and you sat on a stool and peacefully enjoyed your drink. Out of a sudden, the woman you had secretly waited for, appeared next to you and asked for a Mezcal. She sat next to you in silence.

You looked around you because you had found your target; he was flirting with a girl way young for him, and from the corner of your eye, you noticed how the woman focused on your man. It all clicked. The target was known for being very bad; drugs, human trafficking and prostitution were just a few of the things that made him wanted. The US government wanted him dead, and apparently all governments did too.

“I guess we’re onto the same man,” you sighed, taking the drink to your lips. “Who else wants him?”

“Who doesn’t?” She asked. “American? You sound American,” she commented. “CIA? They want him dead? I wouldn’t have thought you’d get your hands dirty with a guy like this,” she shrugged carelessly as she turned away from him. “He’s not really worth the damn.”

“He’s a bad guy, that’s it,” you replied shortly. “What about you? You don’t sound like anything.”

“Russian—technically Soviet,” she chuckled lightly, “and officially a ballerina. Would you like to go somewhere else?” She offered, leaving her glass on the bar’s countertop. “We could have a drink in private—don’t worry,” she hurried to add when she foresaw your doubtful expression, “the target will be here until next week. He’s got some business to attend, mostly illegal ones, but who are we to talk about legal stuff anyway,” she said the words the words almost as if she was singing. “Let’s go to my room and we’ll order something to eat.”

But what you ended up eating was not on the menu.

She was under you, writhing and panting as your tongue slid in between her throbbing folds. She held your head in place as her back arched away from the mattress. She moaned loud and clear for you, and the noises she made felt like heaven for you. You had never been so hungry, and her body was yours for the taking.

Her body convulsed at the anticipation of her orgasm. She tensed for a few seconds before letting herself go let herself be washed over by the pleasure. Her pristine chest heaved for air, and she looked at you in an inviting manner.

Hovering over her, you climbed until you were right in front of her lips and she crashed her lips with yours in a deep kiss. The softness of her lips was hypnotic, and her hands touched the right spots of your curves. Your sweaty bodies melted with each other in a sinful way. It couldn’t be legal to be doing that. Perhaps she was right, who were you to talk about legal stuff?

She hummed in approval when your hips gently rocked against her sex, and you couldn’t help but to moan too. Her fingernails grazed your back, leaving the deep pink traces as they moved. She skillfully placed a leg under your body and rolled her hips.  
In that sensual swaying of hips, you two came minutes after. You fell next to her and with your fingers you draw lazy, shapeless forms on the curve of her waist as she brushed your locks of hair that had fell onto your tired face.

“I’m Natasha, by the way,” she whispered. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you replied. “Nice to meet you.” 

> _Oh, love is just another four letter word_  
>  _but that never stopped nobody_  
>  _Oh, either way we lose_  
>  _Just like lovers, just like lovers do_

Your relationship took a while to blossom. It was hard for you to meet, mostly because your jobs took you to the opposite corners of the world, but whenever you two had the chance to meet, heaven burnt.

The time you spent together seemed enough for the two of you, especially when back in the day, you weren’t really together. Natasha was always busy, and so were you. The improved version of Captain America couldn’t stay quiet for long, especially when at a time like the 90’s, the White House had made itself a few enemies. The Cold War was recently over, and all eyes were in the Middle East.

It wasn’t really often, but more than once you two met on missions that implied killing the other’s people, but ended up making love instead in any place that could welcome you. When she spared your crew, you spared hers, and so on until eventually you had no other choice. You forgave each other afterwards, because you were just the bodyguards for bastards who were not even grateful for your services.

 

> _His and hers closets are perfect for skeletons_  
>  _Hiding resentment and shared infidelities_  
>  _Cheers to regret, wash it down with some booze_  
>  _Drinking like lovers do_

One good thing about not really being with Natasha is that you could live a love life with no strings attached. Not to her, not to anybody. You were sure she did the same because more than once you’d seen her wrapped with the man people called the Winter Soldier. They seemed way more natural than you two, but at least you were enjoying yourself too. Men or women, you liked them all.

You were especially fond of a man you met at a circus one time. He was the archer and one of the main attractions. He had a careless manner and a scruffy look that melted your heart, and a loving way of fucking you senseless that was as confusing as it was satisfying.

But eventually, you came back to her all the time, just as she came back to you. 

> _That's how it goes_  
>  _so take care like a grown-up_  
>  _Life's not a fairytale, it's hard to own up_  
>  _Hire a hitman to take care of you_  
>  _and end it like lovers do_

You walked the long hallways of the building and got to the big boss’s office to receive another mission. Your hundredth one, it was a special one. You had been doing this for so many years that it seemed like only yesterday when you woke up from the procedure you underwent to become who you were today.

You were not expecting anything out of the ordinary; just another dangerous target with way too much power or knowledge to be walking around the planet, but the job was not as easy, and when you were told to open your file with the target you dropped it onto your lap in awe.

“Everything alright, (Y/N)?” Your boss asked with polite concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m alright,” you shook your head. “So, who’s this? I mean, why is she important?”

“Agent Natalia Alianovna Romanova, also known as Natasha Romanoff or Natalie Rushman,” the names were all so familiar that it was almost funny, “is responsible for the murder of many of our people—well, many people in general,” ‘she’s not the only one responsible’, you thought to yourself as you nodded. “She’s incredibly dangerous and we need to put her down.”

“What’s her skillset?” You innocently asked.

“She was trained as a ballerina from the Bolshoi, so you can expect she’s agile as hell,” ‘and graceful’, you mentally noted. “She’s got a skillset very similar to yours, so I bet that would be a great fight. She has no known weak spots, unfortunately, but if we put her down, keeping the country safe will be an easier job for all of us.”

You sighed heavily. “It has to be done, then.” 

> _Oh, love is just another four letter word_  
>  _but that never stopped nobody_  
>  _Oh, either way we lose_  
>  _Just like lovers, just like lovers do_

You knew she was going to be in Paris for a few days, and you didn’t need much time to end her. It was the job, and for you, the job was always first. You were given all the equipment that you could possibly need. The scene was almost taken from a John Wick movie; the fire guns displayed on the feet of bed, the knives on the upper right corner and the vests and whatnots on the upper left corner.

“ _Heard you were in Paris, wanna hang out?_ ” You texted Natasha, and her positive answer didn’t take long to come. You were ready to get the job done.

“ _There’s a bar I like, I gotta do a little something there and then I’m all yours. I’ll send you the location._ ”

You prepared yourself with enough ammo and willpower because killing Natasha Romanoff was not an easy task. You zipped your dress and fixed your hair, if she was about to die, she could at least have one last nice view. 

> _I see you watching me_  
>  _Eyes on your target_  
>  _Mix drinks and smoke rings,_  
>  _It's already started_  
>  _let’s roll the dice and we'll both make our moves_  
>  _Playing like lovers do_

“I can’t say this surprises me, (Y/N),” she slyly said. One of her eyebrows rose and the corner of her lips curved on a smirk. “I can’t say it pleases me to do it but… a job is a job.”

“Couldn’t have said that better, agent Romanoff,” you conceded. “That’s a pretty dress, I wonder how you’d look without it,” you grinned.

“Well, you already know that,” she licked her plump lips in a seductive manner. “Who sent you?”

“I could be asking that exact same question, but we both know the answers already, Nat,” you pointed out. “I swear I’ll be quick,” you teased at her with your gun.

She undressed herself, revealing that body that made your mouth water. You two made love for one last time.

And then the trigger was pulled


End file.
